


your body is a symphony (and I'm conducting you)

by zanthetran



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Porn Without Plot, Roleplay, Smut, they do it on the console, uhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:15:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24832219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanthetran/pseuds/zanthetran
Summary: SOMEONE has a uniform kink (and it's not yaz)
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	your body is a symphony (and I'm conducting you)

**Author's Note:**

> no notes head empty just smut.
> 
> title from: the calendar by panic at the disco

“Miss? Do you have any identification?”

The blonde stops in her tracks, back going stiff. She lifts her chin almost imperceptibly and turns on her heel, looking Yaz up and down quickly before settling back on her face. “Not at the moment, no.”

Yaz takes a step towards the blonde, hard boots scuffing the metal floor. She puts her hands in her pockets and takes another step forward. “What’re ya doin’ out so late?” she asks almost innocently. The way the blonde’s eyes hungrily take in her form — her regular uniform, minus the traffic vest and hat and extra stuff always clipped to her belt — makes a scalding heat shoot down her body.

She feels a little silly, really, but the blonde had asked so earnestly and Yaz is _not_ one to disappoint.

She holds onto her belt as she invades the Doctor’s space and raises her eyebrows in a question, waiting for the answer. The Doctor swallows hard, pupils already blown. “Nothing, officer. Just out for an evening stroll, nothing out of the ordinary, all is normal. You know, I think it might be the most normal night I’ve —“

She’s cut off when Yaz reaches forward in the blink of an eye and spins her towards the console, pushing her body weight against the Doctor’s back, holding tight to her wrist to keep her in place. “You sound nervous. I think I’m gonna have to pat you down, just to be safe,” she growls in the blonde’s ear.

“Just to be safe,” the Doctor repeats in a whisper, already breathless.

Yaz pulls back and regards her with a soft smile. “You’re not gonna play hard to get?” she asks, breaking character.

The Doctor turns her head, catching her eyes. “Sorry, forgot,” she says, then starts half-heartedly pulling at the hand holding her wrist behind her back. Yaz tightens her grip to an almost painful point and the gasp that leaves the Doctor’s lips is well worth having to dress in her uniform on her day off. “I haven’t done anything suspicious, Yaz.”

Yaz’s other hand tangles in short blonde locks and roughly pulls her head back, exposing her neck. The blonde practically melts in her touch and it only spurs her on even more.

“It’s PC Khan,” she growls dangerously, teeth nipping at the Doctor’s exposed throat, double pulse already thrumming under her lips. She tightens her grip painfully in blonde hair. “Understand?”

The Doctor nods — or as close as she can get to a nod when her head is being forcefully held in place — and repeats, “PC Khan.”

Yaz pulls her hand from the Doctor’s hair and moves away, dropping the Doctor’s wrist. The blonde opens her mouth and starts to turn but Yaz expects it (planned on it, really), already laying her palm flat on the Doctor’s back and pushing her over the console in one swift move. She doesn’t push her down flat (she doesn’t want her losing an eye or something on the buttons and levers sticking out) but the firm weight is enough to make a point.

She bends over the blonde, her entire body pressing the Doctor against the console. “If you don’t cooperate, I’ll be forced to restrain you,” she says lowly in her ear, pushing her hips hard against the blonde.

The Doctor lets out a soft moan and Yaz almost stops the entire scene so she can skip to the fun part, but she holds her resolve firm and straightens back up. The Doctor doesn’t move and Yaz smiles, pleased with herself.

“Up now, you’ve learned your lesson,” she says, tugging at the back of the Doctor’s bracers to pull her back up into a standing position. She steps back, out of the Doctor’s space, and feels so cold without the warm body pressed against her own. “Like I said, I’m gonna have to pat you down, make sure you aren’t carrying any weapons. Name, please?” And her voice doesn’t waver one bit, even as she watches the Doctor’s knuckles turn white where she grips the edge of the console.

“Doctor. The —“ She inhales a sharp breath as Yaz places her hands on her hips and slowly but firmly runs them over her stomach and down the front of her thighs. “The Doctor,” she says through gritted teeth.

“I said name, not title.” Yaz wishes she could see the Doctor’s face when she throws her words from their first meeting back at her, certain the blonde remembers.

“Doctor.”

Yaz scratches her nails back up the blonde’s thighs and revels in the resulting hiss. She runs her hands up taut abs and over her sides, making sure to touch every inch. “Your name is Doctor?” she asks mockingly. Her hands scratch down her back once before grabbing at the yellow braces and pulling them down over her arms, letting them hang limply at her sides.

“Is this a strip search?” the Doctor asks and Yaz is a little impressed she’s still mostly keeping to the script she’d anxiously handed her one day last week (Yaz had the entire thing memorized by that night).

She can’t resist the urge to feel the warm body against hers again and gives in as her hands grip strong biceps hidden by tight white sleeves. “I love this shirt, you know.”

The Doctor smiles, eyes closed and dreamy expression on her face. “I do.”

Yaz presses a soft kiss to the back of her neck and asks, “Colour?” Her hands run down soft forearms and she slots her fingers between the Doctor’s white knuckled grip.

“Green. So green. The greenest green you’ve ever seen —“

She swiftly moves her hands back to the Doctor’s hips and digs her nails into soft fabric. The Doctor lets out a hiss between her teeth and almost desperately presses back against Yaz. Hands run over her backside, squeezing hard and dipping between her legs briefly to press fingertips to a white hot center. The Doctor lets her head fall forward and her hips buck uselessly against Yaz’s hand which leaves as fast as it had arrived.

Yaz kicks the blonde’s feet apart roughly and kneels down. Her hands grip the inside of the Doctor’s thighs as she works on her very thorough _“_ search”. She doesn’t leave an inch of skin untouched, and by the time she stands back up her knees ache a bit and the Doctor is almost vibrating. Yaz grips the back of her shirts and tugs them free of blue trousers, then smooths her hands over soft skin. She traces the underside of the soft sports bra with feather light touches and feels the muscles of the Doctor’s stomach contract under her palm.

“I’m going to need to perform a more thorough…examination,” Yaz says in her cop voice.

“Should you read me my rights first? I don’t remember much about Earth laws and customs but I’m sure there’s a part where —“

“God, you talk too much,” Yaz mutters as she spins the Doctor around and presses their lips together in one swift move, effectively cutting off her rambling.

Yaz studies her when they pull away. The excitement in the blonde’s eyes is intoxicating and she can _see_ how much the Doctor wants to backtalk and cause trouble, and it’s truly a wonder they don’t get into so much more trouble during their daily adventures.

“Is that part of the search?” the Doctor asks quietly, hot breath ghosting over Yaz’s lips.

She grabs the two shirts in her hands and roughly pulls them up and off the Doctor’s body. Her hands immediately find burning skin and she digs her nails in, leaving half moons on pale skin while the Doctor sucks in a sharp breath. “Yes,” she says authoritatively. “Everything I’m doing is Sheffield Police Department procedure. Keep quiet.”

The Doctor doesn’t say another word as Yaz unbuttons her trousers and slides them down her legs, stopping to take off the dirty brown boots as well (she should’ve done it in a different order, she will remember that next time). The Doctor immediately kicks the pants and boots to the side with her foot.

She straightens and runs a finger over wet fabric, smirking against the blonde’s mouth (a little cockiness never hurt anyone). She flattens her palm against the Doctor’s stomach and slowly moves it down past the elastic waistband and to where she needs her most. The Doctor bites her bottom lip and sucks in a gasp of air when Yaz swipes one finger through wet folds and the cocky smirk is back, she really can’t help it.

“Don’t even,” the Doctor warns, glaring at her as best she can.

Yaz presses hard against her clit, causing the Doctor’s eyes to roll back in her head and a groan escape her lips. She lazily circles the Doctor’s clit and the blonde’s eyes finally open. Normally bright and excited, now dark as they flit over Yaz’s face, then slowly down her arm to where she continues to lazily circle her clit. They both watch Yaz’s wrist flex as her lazy circling moves to the Doctor’s entrance, dipping the tip of one finger in experimentally. The blonde’s mouth hangs open and her eyes drag back up to Yaz’s face.

The first thrust makes them both sigh — The Doctor for finally being filled after so long, and Yaz for finally feeling the tight walls clench around her fingers. She lifts the Doctor so she’s almost sitting on the console and moves her own hips with the thrusts. The Doctor lets go of the console to grip at her hip, nails digging in roughly and leg wrapping around the back of Yaz’s thigh. She kisses the underside of the blonde’s jaw with an open mouth and bites down on her shoulder, soothing the skin over with her tongue. The Doctor lets her head fall back to better expose her neck to Yaz’s waiting mouth, pulse thrumming rapidly and vocal cords vibrating as her moans get louder.

Yaz licks up the column of her throat and bites down on her ear lobe. The Doctor stiffens and clenches hard around Yaz’s fingers and she smirks against her neck. She does it again, to the same result, and then she curls her fingers inwards as she bites down on the lobe and the hand holding her hip fists her shirt tight and the Doctor rocks her hips and her moans sound pathetic and needy.

(Yaz is right proud of herself, honestly.)

She speeds up the thrusting, curling her fingers inwards and rubbing her clit hard with her thumb. The Doctor keeps eye contact desperately as soft moans escape her lips with every single thrust.

“Can I touch you?” she asks between breaths.

Yaz slows, stops, and pointedly looks down to where the Doctor’s hand is still gripping her shirt. She raises an eyebrow.

“Sorry, I forgot.” The Doctor lets go of the fabric and Yaz instantly misses the touch. They went off script long ago, might as well just chuck it in the bin entirely.

“Of course you can touch me, Doctor,” she says, starting up her fast pace again.

The Doctor nods and reaches up to cup Yaz’s jaw and pull her into a deep kiss. Yaz swallows every moan the Doctor makes as she brings her closer and closer to the edge. The other hand releases from the death grip on the console to tug at her shirt and pull her even closer. Their foreheads bump lightly against each other as Yaz curls her fingers up with every thrust, adding in another digit when the Doctor breathes, “More.”

Yaz moves her other hand up the Doctor’s abdomen and squeezes fabric covered flesh, pulling one hard nipple between her fingers sharply. The Doctor clenches tight around her fingers and she lets out a surprised squeak. “Yaz, I’m close. PC Khan — sorry — I’m cl — _Yaz._ ”

She instantly slows down her pace and the Doctor’s eyes fly open in shock and upset. She starts to sputter out complaints when Yaz says, “Beg for it, then.”

The tension between then is palpable. Yaz can practically _feel_ it. She can see the battle behind the Doctor’s eyes, trying to decide whether to push it _just a bit more_ or truly beg for it. Apparently the decision is an easy one because the Doctor almost immediately starts begging, and Yaz is _living_ for it.

“Please, Yaz, I need to come. I’ll do anything, I swear it. Please, PC Khan, pl —“

Yaz slams her fingers into the Doctor at a relentless pace and reaches up to hold her chin in place. She kisses chapped lips and swallows the uncontrolled moans the Doctor makes. Her walls clench hard around Yaz’s fingers and Yaz realizes she’s waiting for permission, spoken audible permission, and that only serves to make the heat growing in her lower stomach burn hotter.

Her hand moves to the Doctor’s throat and her eyes widen, pupils blown and mouth falling open. Yaz _wishes_ she could explore _that_ now, but she doesn’t know anything about properly choking anyone, let alone a Time Lord, and in the middle of shagging doesn’t seem like the time to find out. She moves her hand around the back of the Doctor’s neck and grips blonde hair in her hands and growls in her ear, “Then _come_ , Doctor. _Please._ ”

And she does, just like she’s told. Her back arches like a bow and her walls clench even harder around Yaz’s thrusting fingers and the heel of her foot digs into Yaz’s backside hard as she pulls her closer. She keeps her pace even, slowing down to help the blonde ride out her shaking orgasm.

When her back finally relaxes, Yaz pulls out entirely and brings the wet hand up to her mouth and sucking each digit clean with a pop of her lips. The Doctor stares, mouth open and tongue darting out to wet her own chapped lips.

“Good, eh?” Yaz really can’t help the smug way it comes out, it just happens.

The Doctor rolls her eyes but pulls Yaz in for another soft kiss. “It were amazin’,” she says. “Thank you,” she adds quietly.

“Of course,” Yaz replies, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: this fic comes before blame it all on human nature (the choking fic) but they're not like a series or whatever there's just a mention of choking in this one that gets Explored in blame it all on human nature.
> 
> as always send me prompts and general screaming to @zanthetran on Tumblr


End file.
